Colby and Camo
by T'Thel
Summary: You never know what you'll find on a rainy night in LA...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So, after watching the scene in "Jack of All Trades," when Colby is calling "Skipper" on the beach (for the umpteenth time), my sister and I began discussing what kind of pet Colby would actually have: definitely not a dog small enough to be named Skipper, so perhaps a Husky/Malamute, or German Shepherd. Then we decided that no, it was Colby, he'd go and surprise everyone and end up with something completely different!

Also, this is my first foray into the wonderful and varied world of fanfiction (go me!), so please be nice...! If you have an actual issue with someone being in/out of character, I'd love to hear your reasoning (of course, "I love it!" is equally welcome).

And, I guess I have to say it: My name is not CBS, therefore I DON'T OWN NUMB3RS. I own Camo (I guess), and my laptop. That's it.

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Colby and Camo

Colby hated driving in LA traffic. The only thing worse than driving in LA traffic was driving in LA traffic in LA rain. Because apparently, the local weather didn't possess the word "moderate" in its dictionary. He squinted through the windshield, and through the layer of rain that the wipers couldn't quite keep up with, and noticed that the traffic hadn't actually progressed in the last few minutes. This was ridiculous. He could take a nap out here and no one would notice. Thoroughly frustrated and distracted, Colby let his gaze wander to the empty sidewalks. No one in their right mind would be walking today. Tonight. What time was it, anyway? On second thought, he didn't want to know. He just wanted to get home and hit the sack. The car ahead of him ('95 VW Jetta, green, dented bumper, licence plate 985 Ocean-King-Charlie. Too many years in law enforcement…?) moved forward a couple feet. Colby didn't bother catching up. He groaned, stretched, and went back to watching the sidewalk. Burger wrappers, flattened drink cups, fuzzy grey… kitten?! Colby rolled down the passenger window and leaned over. Yep, that was a kitten- cold, wet, huddled on the road up against the ledge of the sidewalk. In a flash, he was out of his car and around the front, pulling up the collar of his jacket in an attempt to keep at least some rain out of his shirt. He crouched by the sodden grey ball of fur. The kitten's eyes were closed and its paws tucked under its chest. It wasn't shivering, but Colby didn't know if that was good or bad. He gently touched the kitten's head with a careful forefinger. "Hey there, little guy." The kitten shifted and opened its mouth in a pitiful mew. Colby smiled and scooped up the bedraggled critter, tucking it in his jacket. He darted back to the shelter of his car, pulled his half-soaked jacket off and started rubbing the kitten down. It protested shrilly and with an encouraging show of strength. Colby's smile broadened, only to be cut off when the driver behind him blasted their horn. Apparently, the Jetta had moved enough to warrant progress from Colby as well. "Alright, alright." Colby crept forward a whole 10 feet, then went back to the kitten. It was kneading out a nest in the jacket. Colby grinned and turned the heater on. They both needed to warm up and dry off.

Finally, Colby made it to his apartment building and up the stairs to his unit. It was now- shouldn't have checked his watch. 23:30. Ouch. And he wasn't done yet, though the rest of his evening promised to be at least interesting, if not entertaining: the kitten needed a bath. He dropped his duffel bag in the living room and carried the kitten, now snuggled inside Colby's jacket, to the bathroom. He then ran back to his bedroom to look up kitten care on the internet. He figured that mild hand soap should be gentle enough for a first bath. He was a bachelor, he bought what was cheapest (and non-scented), and so he didn't have baby shampoo or anything like that. He returned to the bathroom to find the kitten happily exploring the counter, sink and taps. "Here goes." 30 surprisingly loud and wet minutes later, Colby was finished, and grateful the little guy hadn't actually managed to escape the sink during the bath. He was also grateful that he could finally get to bed. The now-fluffy grey tabby kitten seemed content to attack the covers while Colby changed, and immediately curled up on his chest when he lay down. Colby grinned and stroked the soft fur, eliciting a happy rumble. "You need a name, little guy," he muttered just before falling asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

David decided to check up on Colby on the way home. The case the team had just closed had been a long, tough one. As David approached Colby's apartment door he could hear that the TV was on. He shrugged. That could be good or bad. Knocking gently and receiving no reply, David tried the handle. When it turned under his hand, he opened the door and entered quietly. Poking his head around the wall into Colby's small living room, David stopped short. Colby was stretched out on the couch, sound asleep. Curled up in the centre of his chest was a grey tabby kitten- sporting a camouflage collar. David stopped and _stared_. The sight of his ex-Afghanistan partner calmly sleeping with a kitten was not one David had ever entertained. The kitten stirred, then stretched and Colby awoke to pet it, and in doing so noticed his partner. "Hey David," he greeted sleepily. David gave a distracted nod in response, his mind still attempting to process the sight it had been greeted with a moment ago. "You have a cat?" Colby's little-boy-grin grew and he lifted the tiny (in his hands) furball up for David's inspection. "Yeah. David, meet Camo." The feline blinked kitten-blue eyes, regarded the second human in the room with some interest, then yawned and curled back up in his owner's warm grasp. David's mind was having trouble. "You have a cat?" he repeated. Colby's grin was his only reply.


	3. Chapter 3

Colby barely kept back a groan as he finally made it to his front door. The case the team had been working was brutal, and now, even with all three on-call geniuses at work on it, they were solidly stuck. Life looked pretty grey on days like these. The stubborn lock gave way with less argument than it usually did, forestalling his instinct to simply kick the thing in and replace the lot of it. He dropped his bag with a thump and collapsed on the sofa. A moment later, a welcoming " _mrrp_ " sounded, and five pounds of warm, soft, lithe companionship appeared on his lap, butting against his hand before standing to delicately sniff and wash his chin. Colby grinned and stroked the length of Camo's back.

Days like today looked very grey.

Tabby grey.


End file.
